Home Visit
by Green3
Summary: Angel comes to check on the boys. SpikeXander slashiness and vocabulary words.


Title: Home Visit  
  
Author: Green  
  
Pairing: S/X  
  
Rating: R  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.  
  
Summary: Very AU. Random silliness. Angel comes to check on the boys.  
  
Note: Thanks to Lumenara for the beta.  
  
***  
  
"Come on, pet, get up!" Spike said anxiously, slamming the front door. He quickly moved to his lover's side, nervous energy radiating off of him in waves. "He'll be here any minute, and you're just lounging around. Look at this place!" He gestured wildly at the living room of their apartment.  
  
"Huh?" Xander said, puzzled. When he had heard, an hour ago, that Angel was in town and was planning on stopping by, he had done his best to tidy up. Spike had been out picking up his weekly supply of blood from the butcher's, so it had been left up to him to do all the work. He had gathered and thrown away the beer bottles and pizza boxes that had cluttered the coffee table, stashed the skin magazines out of sight in their bedroom, vacuumed, dusted the entertainment center, moved all the old newspapers that had sat in a tall pile beside the La-Z-boy to their proper place in the recycle bin, and put the living room lube (which had been prominently displayed on an end table)in a drawer with the kitchen lube.  
  
"It's all wrong! Sodding hell, Xan, what did you do? Run through here with a bloody bulldozer?"  
  
"What?" Xander said defensively. "I thought I should clean up, since Angel's coming."  
  
"Oh, you did, did you?"  
  
"As a *favor*, you ... you nitwit! It's the first time he's come to visit us ..."  
  
"I bloody well *know* that, you ponce! 's why we need to make the right impression."  
  
"And that's why I straightened up! What, did I not do a good enough job for you? You gonna take away my cleaning license?"  
  
"That's not it ..."  
  
"Oh, I get it. *My* cleaning isn't good enough for your precious sire," he concluded, jealousy evident in his voice.  
  
"You take that back!" Spike said, affronted. "That buggering ninny is *not* my 'precious sire'."  
  
"Oh, sure." Xander rolled his eyes. "*Drusilla* is your sire. Like I believe that one."  
  
"'s the bloody truth!"  
  
"I've seen the way you look at him, buddy. There was definite siring!"  
  
"He's not my bloody sire!" Spike roared. "Now get off your dead arse and help me set this place to rights! Where'd you put the pizza boxes?"  
  
"In a gar-bage bag," Xander said slowly, as if speaking to a child -- or an incredibly non-bright person.  
  
"You take it out to the dumpster yet?"  
  
"No, I got too tired after cleaning up this living room. Did you know we had a ball gag in the magazine rack?"  
  
"And where did you put that?" Spike asked, bending down and looking under the couch. "Ah ha! Look at this." He proudly held up a long, supple, suitable-for-bondage leather strap. He held it out to Xander. "Tie this round the floor lamp, will you, pet?"  
  
"Oh, sorry, I must have missed ..." Xander began, then blinked. "What?"  
  
"And wedge the lamp behind the couch. Here, I'll pull it away from the wall for you. Now what did you do with the trash bag?"  
  
"Kitchen. What are you doing, Spike? Angel's gonna be here any minute. As much as that sounds ... intriguing," he said, his mind working overly fast and his cock hardening painfully, "we really don't have time to ..."  
  
"Go get the garbage, Xan."  
  
"I ..."  
  
"Now."  
  
Xander walked warily into the kitchen, keeping his eye on Spike over the bar partition. "What are you going to do, Spike?"  
  
"Make this place presentable for His Holy Righteousness. Where's the lube?" he asked, looking around.  
  
"In the kitchen drawer," Xander said, even more wary now.  
  
"Good. Bring it. Better yet, bring both."  
  
"Spike ..." he started, then decided to go with it. He'd been with Spike long enough to know that not everything was always going to make sense. He opened the drawer, grabbed both tubes of lube in one hand, and headed back to Spike with the garbage.  
  
The hyper vampire eagerly grabbed the trash bag from Xander, ripped it open, and began to scatter the contents liberally. The pizza boxes fell back to the coffee table, beer bottles clunked out and rolled to the floor, five old issues of TV Guide came out to rest on the couch. Spike put the rest of the trash to the side for a moment and spent a little time distressing the TV Guides until he was satisfied with their haphazard appearance. He looked around at his progress.  
  
"Where'd you put that ball gag?" he asked, peering into the wooden slatted magazine rack. "And what's this?" he said, reaching in and getting a book.  
  
"That's yours," Xander pointed out.  
  
"I know it's mine, but I can't have it laying about, giving the place culture."  
  
"Hey, maybe he'll think it's mine," Xander said brightly.  
  
Spike raised an eyebrow.  
  
"What is it, anyway?" He read the cover. " 'Cand-Ide'." He paused. "Sounds ... interesting."  
  
"That's *Candide* you illiterate little buffoon. Go stash it in the bedroom. And where the hell is all my porn?"  
  
"What exactly are you doing, here, Spike? Why the mess? Why the," he gestured to Spike artfully arranging the tubes of lube on the side table, "big setup?"  
  
"'cause it'll annoy the hell out of him," he said, turning with a grin. "Can't let him think I'm respectable, now, can we?"  
  
Xander stopped, then nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, I can see that."  
  
"So you gonna just stand there, or are you gonna go get my skin mags and help decorate? Don't have long, you know," he said, gesturing to the clock on the wall.  
  
"Help annoy Angel? Hmm, that's a tough one," he said, pretending to ponder.  
  
"Oh, come on, can't you imagine the look on that prancing little do-gooder's face when he sees ... I thought you were going to get the ball gag?"  
  
Xander grinned. "I'm on it," he said. "Hell, I'll bring the whole damn chest full."  
  
"Nah, don't want to overdo, now pet. Just a few will do just fine."  
  
***  
  
Fifteen minutes later the two men sank into the sofa, content with their work. The apartment now resembled the home of two perverted, hedonistic men with no sense of decency or respect for cleanliness. It was perfect.  
  
"When do you think he'll be here?" asked Xander.  
  
Spike's hand came around to massage the back of Xander's neck, kneading the tightened, strained muscles there. "Probably not for a while, now," he said, leaning over and nuzzling the skin right beneath his boyfriend's ear, just the way Xander liked it.  
  
Xander closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the pleasant sensations courtesy of Spike's knowing fingers. Little sparks of energy seemed to start popping off beneath Spike's hands, running in currents through his body, shooting down to his dick.  
  
Xander tried clearing his throat and came up with a half cough/half gasp that made Spike chuckle.  
  
Opening his eyes, Xander looked into Spike's face and saw a purely wicked grin. His cock hardened before a coherent thought could even penetrate. But then ...  
  
"No!" Xander said, scrambling to his feet. "I'm on to you!" he said, pointing quite childishly at his boyfriend.  
  
Spike's grin slipped off his face, replaced with a look of complete innocence. "What? What're you going on about now?"  
  
"You! With the magic fingers and that sexy grin on your face! Don't think I don't know what you're up to, you ... you undead seducer!"  
  
One dark, scarred eyebrow raised.  
  
"You want Angel to walk in on us!" Xander continued. "First you completely trash the apartment, setting up some weird bondage club scenario as the centerpiece to your ... insanity, and then you try to seduce me! You're, you're evil!"  
  
"Now why would I do that, pet?" Spike asked soothingly.  
  
"Oh, I don't know, why do you do anything when your *sire* is involved?" He spat out the word with disgust. "You're trying to be as annoying as humanly ... er, vampirically possible. It's not good enough that we're here, living and fucking together and ... whatever. Isn't that enough to piss Angel off? But no, you always have to go over the top. You always have to push the 'bloody' envelope. What the hell, Spike? Why do you have to use *me*? Why's it always have to ... oomph!"  
  
In a blur of motion, Spike grabbed him and tackled him to the floor, silencing him with a hand tightly over his mouth.  
  
"Shut up for one sodding minute," he hissed. "I'm not with you to piss my ... *Angel* off." He shifted and relaxed a little, settling his body against Xander's. "I'm with you because you're you. You're an annoying little arsewipe with shit fashion sense and a piss-poor American public education, and I fucking love you."  
  
Xander tried to say something, but his words were muffled.   
  
Grinning apologetically, Spike pulled his hand away. "Sorry 'bout that. You were saying?"  
  
"You really know how to talk to a guy," Xander said, but he was smiling. "C' mere."  
  
Spike kissed him like he was trying to prove something, and he managed to make every possible point in his favor. Xander had never been any good at debating, so he quickly conceded.  
  
Spike broke away from his mouth and licked along the line of his boyfriend's jaw to his ear, where he spoke velvety and low. "You're also bloody sexy right here, sprawled out under me, all mine for the taking." One hand traveled the length of Xander's body while Spike nipped lightly at his earlobe. "And you're mine, aren't you, Xan?"  
  
"Ugnh," Xander replied succinctly.  
  
Spike flexed over him and ground against his cock. "Right, Xan?" he persisted.  
  
Xander's eyes flew wide and unseeing. "Fuck! Yes, Spike," he gasped, arching up, wanting to melt into his boyfriend and be owned completely.  
  
"Am I interrupting?" came the amused voice from the door.  
  
"Eep," said Xander.  
  
"Bloody fucking hell," said Spike.  
  
"I could go, you know, maybe come back later ..." Angel trailed off, obviously teasing. *Teasing.*  
  
"Yes, you do that," Spike said.  
  
"No, you don't," Xander said, pushing his vampire blanket off him. "Come in, Angel."  
  
Angel crossed the threshold and quickly scanned the room with an amused eye.  
  
Xander turned to Spike and hissed under his breath, "You left the door open?" Spike's innocent-as-a-newborn-babe expression returned full force.  
  
"I was in town, thought I'd stop by and see how my 'family' was getting along. But I can see you knew that," Angel said, moving a newspaper aside and noting the fresh vacuum trails on the carpet.  
  
"Nope, weren't expecting you at all," Xander lied.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "What d'you want?" he asked.  
  
"Nothing really, just checking up," Angel said lightly, picking up the March issue of Blue Boy from under a half eaten slice of cold pizza. The scent of fresh lemon furniture polish wafted up and he smiled. "Nice place you've got here," he said, flipping to a page full of advice letters. *'My boyfriend likes felching, but I think that's gross! What should I do?'* Angel frowned. "Hey, Spike, what's felching?"  
  
Spike grinned. "If you don't know, I'm not telling."  
  
Angel dropped the porn mag back to the coffee table. "Fine. I'll ask Wesley."  
  
"You do that, mate," Spike said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
If Angel had normal blood flow, he probably would have blushed bright red. Fortunately, he didn't have to worry about things like that.  
  
"I hear there's a vamp nest right outside of town. Buffy was going to take care of it tonight, but I told her I'd get it on my way out of town. You want in?" Angel asked, looking at Spike.  
  
"'Bout how big a nest?" Spike asked nonchalantly, trying not to let his excitement get the better of him.  
  
Angel grinned knowingly. "Hey, there's no ashtray in here. I know you haven't stopped smoking; I can smell cigarettes all over you. Where are you putting the ashes and cigarette butts, Spike?"  
  
Spike mumbled something and grabbed an axe.  
  
"What was that?" Angel asked.  
  
"He said he doesn't want me dying from secondhand smoke," Xander said with a smile.  
  
Spike shot his boyfriend a glare that could have melted steel.  
  
"But he doesn't mind if anyone else gets it!" Xander scrambled to recover. "He blows smoke in Buffy's face, practically." He looked over at Spike, hoping his quick save was enough to patch the bruised ego of the once-evil-and-now-just-kinda-rude vampire. Spike appeared mollified.  
  
"Size of the nest?" Spike repeated.  
  
"Only about twenty five," Angel said.  
  
"Oh," Spike said, a little deflated.  
  
Xander turned his back, unconsciously straightening the litter on the coffee table, and Angel mouthed, 'Sixty!' Spike immediately brightened.  
  
"Well, we'll be off, then," Spike said, and spun Xander around for a quick, hard kiss. He and Angel were out the door before Xander could even register that he was leaving.  
  
"Wait, what about the house?" Xander called. No answer. He looked at the wreckage that was once their living room. "He sure doesn't give a shit that I have to clean the house for the second time today."  
  
He sighed and picked up the magazine Angel had been looking at earlier. "Bet there's more vamps than twenty five. Why's he think I'd be worried? Between the two of them, they could probably take on about seventy fledges." He flipped through Blue Boy, coming to rest on the 'Q & A' page. "And what the hell is felching?"  
  
END 


End file.
